Stiles By Any Other Name
by Cortexikid
Summary: Stiles would never be the same after this. The nogitsune had stolen his face. Had fooled them all, more than once. Except this time, Stiles had a physical front-row seat, standing in front of his friend that may pick the wrong him, and doom the real one. They had to outfox the fox. Trick the trickster. So Scott asked the two Stiles the question to end all questions... Post De-Void


**Stiles By Any Other Name**

**By Cortexikid**

**A/N: Teen Wolf Theory Time: just a little drabble about a theory that's been rumbling around in my brain for a while now…**

**Disclaimer: Neither Teen Wolf nor Stiles is mine. I weep.**

It had arrived. The final showdown. Scott McCall and his pack stood side by side, frayed, but not broken, as they stared down two sets of identical honey-coloured eyes.

With tears rolling down his blood-speckled cheeks, a boy, Stiles Stilinski opened his mouth, pleading:

"Scott, it's me! I swear—"

"No, Scott, don't listen to him! You know he's lying…I'm me," another boy croaked, he as pale and wrecked as the former and so damn convincing that an ache rose in the true alpha's throat.

There they stood, listless and drowning in despair. Two Stiles Stilinskis, each pleading for their life, each tortured and pained and destroyed and…believable.

"How…how am I supposed to—"

Scott's voice broke, shaking his head as his brain scurried to figure out how he can possibly tell the difference between the monster that caused such pain, strife and chaos, the Japanese fox demon who kidnapped Lydia and murdered innocent people, and his best friend, his brother who had been through everything with him, had suffered with him, laughed with him and supported him all these years. The friend who, no matter what, always stood by him and picked him up when he was down, brushing off his troubles with a smile and wisecrack. Stiles. 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone that had evolved into something so much more than that. Only to be violated, haunted, tortured by something so heinous, so…truly evil that it made him shiver with contempt and disgust on his friend's behalf.

Stiles Stilinski would never be the same after this. Not after everything that had happened. That snarky, sarcastic, hilarious, flailing, lovable, irritating little jackass of a genius was forever tainted. And someone, _something_ had to pay for that. _The right something._

But the nogitsune had stolen his face. His voice. His mannerisms. He had fooled them all, not once, not twice, but so many times that it made Scott wince and hate himself for it. And here they were again. Being fooled. Except this time, Stiles had a physical front-row seat, standing right in front of his friend that may pick the wrong him, the wrong Stiles, and doom the real one to…what had to happen.

"Scott," the Stiles to his left murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locking with Scott's, steady despite the tears welling behind them, "you know me better than anyone. You know everything there is about me. You can do this. I trust you. Choose."

The other Stiles twitched, his mouth falling open as he flailed, arms and legs akimbo to catch the alpha's attention.

"It's right, Scott. You do know me. All of me. Probably better than I know myself. If anybody can figure it out, it's you buddy. I know you'll make the right choice. You always do…"

Scott's heart hammered in his chest as he glanced from one Stiles to the other. He knew that you didn't have to be a werewolf to smell his fear, the chance he'd get it wrong, to feel the tension in the air or to taste the cloud of emotion that enveloped them all in this moment.

Their words vibrated in his head, echoing off the corners of his mind as he stood, back straight and fist clenched. He just needed a sign. Something. Anything that could help him know, without a shadow of a doubt who to choose. Something that only the real Stiles could possibly know, something so securely hidden in the recesses of his friend's mind that even the nogitsune couldn't get to it—

It hit him like a freight train.

Out of the corner of his eye, his saw Derek's head tilt slightly, knowing that he had picked up on Scott's rising hope.

He had an idea.

A speck, really. A kernel of hope that had the potential of budding into full-blown saviour.

Just one, little question.

"Okay…if I know Stiles, and I think we can all agree that I do," Scott spoke up, his muscles tensing for a moment before relaxing, his jaw set with more confidence than he felt as he drew breath to continue.

"There's only one thing that he has kept close to his chest, away from his friends, away from everyone except those who aren't strictly need-to-know," he paused, before shrugging, "and even if they did, it didn't matter because well…it's kinda tricky to pronounce…"

Maybe just tricky enough to trick a trickster.

The two Stiles stared back, shock mixed into their equally determined and troubled faces. They both knew what was coming…

"So," Scott raised his eyebrows, gesturing between the two, his gaze flickering from one to the other, before asking the question to end all questions: "Stiles, what is your real name?"

**A/N: Just something I thought of when I first heard about Stiles' real name being revealed. Then, at the end of "De-Void" when the nogitsune split from Stiles yet still in his form - this kinda wrote itself. Hope you enjoyed! Written in like 20 minutes so forgive any mistakes ~Ck x**

**Also posted on Ao3 and on Tumblr under the name octoberobserver**


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